


The Dying Birds

by theoldthetruethebrave



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Jonsa - Fandom, game of thrones
Genre: F/M, jon x sansa - Freeform, jonsa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-08
Updated: 2019-10-08
Packaged: 2020-11-27 09:37:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20946218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theoldthetruethebrave/pseuds/theoldthetruethebrave
Summary: Jon has made a grave mistake. Danaerys had seen him kiss Sansa, and now Sansa is nowhere to be found. Will Jon find her before it’s too late?





	The Dying Birds

Jon could hardly breathe in the cold winter air. He felt like one breath could freeze his lungs entirely, turn him into one of the statues in the crypts, forever still, forever gone. 

“Sansa!” he hollered out in the woods. “Sansa!” 

His voice was hoarse. It sounded like the whines of a dying wolf, small and fragile. He knew his shouts would never be heard over the wind. Crushed by the weight of his uselessness, his legs faltered beneath him, and he fell into the snow, let its cold arms wrap around his frail body. 

“Seven hells. It’s my fault. It’s all my fault” Jon whispered, to who, he didn’t know. His voice was barely heard over the rustling of tree branches, owl calls and the screaming wind. 

He should’ve controlled himself. He should’ve never kissed Sansa Stark. What was he thinking? And when he found out that Danaerys had seen them...

When Sam had told Jon about his true parentage, he felt like running to Sansa and telling her. He trusted her the most out of all of the people in Winterfell, even himself. Sansa always knew what to say, what to do. He felt safe around her. He loved her. 

They had arranged to meet at the Godswood. The battle wouldn’t be for another week, Jon had wagered, the dead wouldn’t be here yet. Time to tell her the truth, in case I die from the hands of a White Walker. 

She had been so beautiful. Snow falling softly around her, like the soft white feathers of a dove. Her long, copper coloured hair was loose down her shoulders, flowing down her chest. Her eyes were worried, her lips pressed into a thin line. 

When the truth came out of his mouth, the two embraced. He didn’t mean for it to happen. He swears it. He had no idea Danaerys had been looking for him, wandering the castle grounds with her silver hair and deep, cold purple eyes. 

“She probably wants to kill me” Jon murmured. He glanced up at the stars, how they hung like lanterns in the sea of black. 

He was terrified. Terrified of what will happen to his people, what remains of his family, to himself. And mostly Sansa. 

She had run off after she saw Danaerys. It was unlike Sansa to do such a thing, but Jon could see the shame written across her face. Was it shame? Or was it something else?

Jon didn’t feel shame. Only terror. Being out in the woods at this time of night, especially with what looms between the shadows of the tall oak trees, is suicide. But he had run after Sansa without any fear of that. Only the fear that he would never see her again. He had loved her for so long. He couldn’t lose her now-gods, he couldn’t. 

He stood up, continued walking. His eyes scanned the snow for footprints, but saw nothing. 

“Sansa, please” his call was a low whine, the howl of a lonely wolf. He felt like he was going to collapse. He didn’t know how long he was out here for-four hours, five? He had lost track of time. By now people were probably out looking for him, to bring him back into the fury of the Dragon queen’s arms. 

In the distance, he saw something shimmer. Squinting, he stumbled towards it, nearly loosing his footing. 

There she was. Her gown had caught the glow of the silvery moonlight. She was dancing, twirling, her arms held out in front of her, her hair waving in the wind, her face serene, eyes closed, lips creased into a thin, beautiful smile. Jon can’t remember the last time he saw that smile. He would kill for it, die for it. 

“Sansa” he breathed, and made his way towards her, pushing past bushes and the low hanging branches of trees. 

She didn’t seem to hear him. Once he was near enough, he placed his hand gently on her shoulder. Just the touch of her was enough to warm him. Jon no longer felt the biting cold of winter, but the warmth of spring. 

Feeling his gentle touch, Sansa had turned around. She looked so beautiful. Tears were frozen on her face. They looked like liquid diamond. 

“Sansa, please” Jon murmured. He didn’t know what he was pleading for. 

Sansa opened her eyes, slowly. They were a brilliant blue. They have always been blue-but there was something different about them. They looked like blocks of ice, like a frozen sea. Jon then noticed how Sansa’s skin was unusually pale, how it was pockmarked in certain places, how her lips didn’t have any colour, how there was no roses in her cheeks like there always was when she was cold. 

Jon knew, at that moment, what had become of his lover. He suddenly knew what he was pleading for. 

“Take me with you”


End file.
